The Right Note
by powerofthepen10
Summary: Camille Everest is a piano prodigy. Love has never crossed her mind. After all this time, she never realized that she had an admirer behind the stage. Following a successful concert, a short letter is sent to her by none other than the internationally-known Roderich Edelstein, but not to compliment her...
1. Chapter 1

**Camille's POV:**

There was nothing I loved more than playing piano.

The smooth, glossy, black-and-white keys glistened when being shined on by the pale-yellow or multi-colored concert lights. The air of intense excitement was my favorite feeling. Crashing through a wild song, or flowing through a gentle one, but no matter what you did, the audience would still give you a standing ovation if you amazed them enough.

Today's choice was a quick waltz that slowed down until it was at a crawling pace. I composed it myself. Even though I tried not to brag often, the smirk on my face couldn't be wiped off. I was too proud of myself.

From memory, I played out the whole song and even leaned in at the last note for a dramatic effect.

I smiled to myself as the last note of my song died out. Deafening cheers and applause burst through my eardrums. Simply exhilarating.

"And that was our guest pianist, Camille!" a man in a dashing navy-blue suit announced. I got up and politely bowed, the applause doubling to a standing ovation. I bowed again, this time with a cutesy swish of the hem of my dress and walked straight out, stupid heels click-clacking and all.

Ugh, so much for pretending. I hated being cute, but I knew it gained me popularity. I could care less about that, but my agent said that I would get to play more often, a tempting deal. Thus, with an aching swirl of a white gown, I grew famous within months.

Now it was behind the stage. I could do anything I wanted. Which meant...

I kicked my head back, sending a daisy-and-diamond-studded headband to come flying off. I swiftly removed my petal earrings, washed off my French-design nails, yanked off my three-inch heels and collapsed in a heap on my favorite leather couch.

My agent Eduard von Bock adjusted his glasses as his traditional greeting to me. "Camille. You won," he announced.

To that, my eyes widened. "I did?" Without a pause, the unthoughtful words poured out of my mouth. "Because, you know, I really would have thought that Roderich would've won. Seriously."

His left eyebrow raised as his lips twitched. "Ah. About him... He gave me a letter to give to you. 'Top secret', he said, so I didn't read it." He rummaged through his briefcase and found a light-purple envelope with a silver wax seal. This guy must be stinkin' rich!

_Good day, Ms. Camille. _

_This is Mr. Edelstein writing to you. I am writing this before the end of the concert. I want to tell you how your playing is... _

_Horrid. _

_Absolutely horrid. _

_That is all, ma'am. _

I dropped the letter in outrage. "Is that guy insane?" I shouted, kicking it as far away from my view as possible. "He dares to insult my playing... Hah! He can barely count or express the flow of his songs through body language!" My head snapped to face my agent. "Get some paper and pens. Write a letter to that fool. Tell his German-speaking self to shut his mouth."

He looked honestly shocked. "A-are you sure?" he stammered. "That might make him upset. Bad for the press, you know."

I was now standing, striking a determined pose. "I'm positive. Next year I will beat him. And the year after that and so on, until he admits I'm better!"

"Don't you play for the love of the instrument?"

"Ah... yes I do. But, for the love of Bach, can't I have a little fun, Eddy?"

Eduard cringed at my nickname for him. "Okay, okay. So a letter to Roderich about keeping his opinions to himself?"

"Yes... And make it as vulgar as you wish."


	2. Chapter 2

**Roderich's POV:**

"Your drink, sir," my agent Elizaveta Héderváry said as she entered my office room.

She wore a charming green dress that matched her eyes. My face grew warm as she stood near me, barely brushing against my fingers as she handed me the porcelain cup filled with coffee, decorated with pink blossoms and intricate, folded leaves. All I could do was stutter a small "Th-thank you" and dismiss her.

She wiped her hands on her white apron, though they were barely dirty, her skin skin pink from continually washing the thick grime off furniture with just a towel and abrasive sprays.

As she turned to leave, a sudden impulse swept over my body. Suddenly, I craved her.

I smoothly got off my chair, placing my hands on the wall behind her, trapping her between my arms.

"R-Roderich, what's this?" she whispered, frightened eyes gazing up at mine. Each beat of her heart caused them to glisten with longing tears, unsure if it was okay. There were too many forbidden stories of men with their workers. Was this love allowed?

I placed a finger on her lips- so smooth and pink- and shushed her. "May I have a kiss?" I asked, leaning in closer without waiting for an answer.

She tilted her head up so her neck was where my lips would have met hers, if not for a knock at my door.

"Damnit," I growled, backing away and yelling, "Who is it?"

"It's Eduard, Camille's agent. She, ah, has replied to your sweet note to her."

Elizaveta's head snapped to attention. "_Sweet_?" she harshly demanded, glaring from me to Eduard, then back to me.

Eduard left the room, chuckling at the dilemma he had forced upon my shoulders.

She walked closer, producing a frying pan from underneath her frilly outfit. "Explain, Roddy. You have ten seconds. Three, if you make a move."

I held my forearms protectively over my face, cowering away. "Okay, it was a mean letter, I swear. It was just saying that her playing was horrid, that's all!" My voice was at least half an octave higher, but at least it made me sound helpless.

She resumed smiling, lowering her arm until the tip of the pan hit the floor with a _thunk_. "I believe you." she finally said, planting a soft kiss at my jawline, sending shivers running down my spine, then rubbing over the spot with her thumb. Affectionately, she murmured, "Have a good day, Roddy." With that, she left, shutting the door behind her.

Exhausted from today's lust, I retired back to my arm chair, carefully opening the letter.

Hah, how cheap! It was sent in the same envelope I had given her my opinions in. One would think an international pianist would have at least some spare change to afford some stationary.

As I began to read, though, all my proud thoughts screeched to a halt.

_Good day, stink-o. _

_I'm replying with the same stuff since you're too unimportant to spend money on. In fact, I regret wasting this pen ink on you. _

_You must suck pretty badly if you can dare say I'm 'horrid'. After all, I beat you. _

_Here's my autograph, peasant. _

_Signed, Camille ~ _

"And she dares make a fool out of me!" I howled, slamming the note on the table. "Very well. I shall write back just so."

Taking a fresh envelope, I sprayed it with my mother's precious, skunk-scented (don't tell her I said so) perfume, so much that the paper wilted and nearly sent me down to my knees, gagging. With a soft chuckle, I muttered, "Perfect." Scouring my office area, including the small bathroom included, I found a few pungent additions to the water, both toilette and toilet. Old socks that Elizaveta never cleaned, a mixture of spit, mud and fish, and marked with a seal of rotten meat taped on it. I finally placed a finished proclamation and rebuttal inside, deciding that I would personally hand this to her.

Just to see her reaction, of course.

Strictly business.

Nothing more.

Reader, would you leave now? You worry me with that sly look of disbelief. Of course I have taken no such sudden interest in that hag! What on Earth are you thinking?!

... I shall say no more.

**{Hello readers! Sorry to interrupt you. Thank you, Ashry 42, and... does this chapter answer your question? ;) Anyway, I hope you aren't offended of Austria's rather rude closure there. He's just a bit flustered, let's say. For those of you that don't like Hungary x Austria, apologies, and those of you that do like them... also, sorry. You will find out why someday...}**


	3. Chapter 3

**Camille's POV:**

Eduard sauntered back in, a proud smirk on his face and a confident swagger in his walk.

"Why so proud?" I asked, even starting to feel a laugh bubbling inside of my chest. He was so silly at times that I often just wanted to reach over and ruffle his hair. I recrossed my legs and sighed, brushing a hand through my hair. It was a slow day after he left to go deliver the letter to Roderich. I get irritated when I'm alone with nothing to do. The stupid hotel didn't allow for pianos in the building, not even the grand hall!

He sat down across from me, pulling out a familiar silver laptop from a wooden drawer. "Well," he sang. "I sort of just got little Roderich in trouble!" He typed a few words into what I assumed was an email, and cleared his throat, hopefully to explain more of the situation.

"Yes?" I prodded, tapping my fingers impatiently.

He smiled nervously. He was sometimes really slow, despite his vast intelligence. He rarely picked up on any signs of mine until I literally said them out loud. It used to drive me up the walls until I learned that it was due to his past with some man called Ivan. "R-right," he stammered. "So, I walked in with the note and told him it was a reply to his 'sweet' letter. Some woman in the room flipped out on him, aha." He rubbed his arms, obviously tense about something.

I laughed a little at the imaginary scene of a pretty lady yelling at the poor Austrian.

What a wonderful revenge.

A knocking at the door caused Eduard to suddenly jump miles up from his seat, his glasses flying halfway across the room.

With a groan, I picked them up, wiped them clean and returned them back to their owner, who was blushing madly at this point. Then, I opened the door. The man behind it shocked me.

"Hello, Ms. Camille. Do you have a moment to spare?"

Sighing and rolling my eyes, I nodded. "Come in, dude," I said, trying to appear as 'undignified' as humanly possible. I pushed him over a pile of abandoned sheet music onto a tiny stool much too small for even a grown man as stunted as him.

Eduard stood in the corner, stifling his chuckles with a fist. Thus, he looked as if he were having a heavy bout of coughs.

"So how d'ya do?" I slurred, poking Roderich's scrunched nose. He looked utterly disgusted, which was a good thing. "Hey, man, want some food? I have chips, soda and stuff like that."

Roderich smoothed out his suit and shook his head, refusing my false offers. Even if he accepted, I'd have to feed him lint and old, hoarded hotel soap slivers since I had none of the above. "You looked so much... _cleaner_ on stage, Ms. Camille."

Admittedly, he was right. My hair stuck out in choppy strands, I was wearing a dirty t-shirt, and quite frankly in Eduard's boxers. Don't ask.

"Don'tcha ever relax, kiddo? Let it out, c'mon!" I pushed his shoulder and he scoffed, stepping up and backwards.

"You're simply revolting. Take this; it smells better than you do," he said, flinging a cream-colored envelope at the floor. He simply turned and trooped out of the room, his huffing audible halfway down the hall.

I leaned down to pick up the letter. Right when my fingers made contact with the moist paper, they pulled away.

"Ew! It smells disgusting!" I squealed. I pointed a shaking finger at a bloody portion of it jutting out. "And what the heck is that thing?!"

Eduard picked the note up for me, grimacing as he did so. He opened it the envelope up and tossed it out, a piece of red meat falling out in the process.

"Seriously, r-raw steak? I always knew he was w-weird."

He ignored my nervous insult and read it out loud to me.

"_Good evening, Ms. Camille. _

_I would say the same to you, except that would not be 'classy' enough. I must thank you, though, for allowing me to dispense some unneeded waste products on this letter. Hopefully you love my garbage as much as I once did before it was rotten. _

_Love, with meat and spit, Mr. Edelstein._"

He squeezed his fists shut, crunching up the paper. He rolled it into a ball and dunked it into a metal waste-basket. "What a rude guy, really," he sighed.

I didn't protest. Who would want to touch that stinky thing, anyway?

A purple figure walked past our door, chuckled darkly, then disappeared.

"He was there the whole time, listening to us!"

Eduard moved to shut the door at the same time I did. Our hands touched, and he immediately pulled his away, cringing.

"Did I shock you?" I asked, changing my voice back to its normal dialect. "I probably shuffled my feet too much while rushing over."

He bit his lip, beginning to shake his head, but then morphed it into a nod.

I apologized. He acted so weak, sometimes, when he was in an off mood. It was probably his way of making sure no one would have the heart to attack him so he wouldn't deal with anymore rough things. But what did I do wrong?

He suddenly faked a cheery smile. "That was a great act, Camille. He was really mad, by the looks of it."

I dramatically bowed multiple times, saying, "Thank you, dear Eddy. Your support means much to me." I leaned in close, gripping his shoulder. "But if you order now, you get a deluxe McDonald's meal for free, from the original price of one dollar!"

He finally let out a real laugh and nodded. "Alright, alright. Bring me to the unhealthy, fat-soaked, overly salty, American fast-food!"

"Whatever, tight-wad," I joked. "Go order a salad or something."

**{Hi again! It's the 4th of July, so I felt like adding a little bit o' America in this. It's probably not patriotic of me to blatantly mention McDonald's, but oh well. To SoniKZooM- Thank you, yet again, very much. Compliments make my day! Or night, I mean, it's 10 P.M. where I live. Psh, whatever. So... #notpressuredmuahahaha}**


	4. Chapter 4

**{No, I can't do this anymore. Austria, why are you so hard to write about? From now on, all of his POVs are special chapters, where something interesting actually happens to him, and not around Camille, or maybe half a chapter will be in his point of view. Something like this one... Just saying, I'm kind of a cock-block. Be warned.}**

**Roderich's POV:**

I turned and left, huffing down the hall in both true and mock anger. At the foot of my hotel room, though, I stopped.

She was definitely acting. I listened to a few of her interviews (Just to get to know who I was up against, of course.), and there was no way she would ever embarrass herself by talking like that with the risk of getting caught by the media.

Silently, I ran back as fast as I could, then pressed my ear against the door of room 231.

"_-with meat and spit, Mr. Edelstein."_

I heard the wrinkling of paper and a swish. The same male voice said, "_What a rude guy, really._"

It was too late; she had already whiffed the letter- or maybe her slave did. He seemed to suck up to her a lot, waiting at her whim for any command that involved love of any sort.

He wouldn't get any. Unlike most musicians, I actually had a pretty good social life and experience with romance. If anyone could look at Eduard's eyes when set upon Camille's, they would light up and crinkle at the edges as he smiled. If anyone took a look at hers... Why, they were as dark as endless pits, even though they were a lovely emerald, just like Elizaveta's.

Wait...

_Damn it!_

I ran at a breakneck pace back to my office, heart hammering. She was expecting me to arrive a long time ago. She was probably going to sever my neck with that damned frying pan of hers. I've had my experience with burns from it, so nothing was too out-of-the-ordinary. I shoved my hand into my pocket, fumbling for the card to swipe into the slit when she slid open the door, cool as a cucumber. She was already waiting for me.

"Hello, Roderich. I see you're back. That took longer than most people take to walk down the hall and drop a letter off." At the end, she placed a smug smirk in the pause, crossing her arms and staring straight up at me.

It made me excruciatingly uncomfortable.

I fidgeted in my spot, backing away half a step by shuffling, and coughed out, "Watched her reaction."

She leaned in close, lifting her nose up to my hair. Pushing me against the wall, she growled, "You smell like perfume."

This was a different sensation from before. My body twitched in craving for her, legs struggling to stay up, my lower region growing warm, lungs overwhelmed by her flowery scent. I could almost feel the petals floating around her hair, velvet and a smooth, creamy pink. "Please, Elizaveta, forgive me for doing so..."

Without warning, our lips connected in a tender kiss, her anger evaporating into nothing as her body relaxed, allowing me to pull her closer. "Rod-" she began before she was cut off as I caressed her neck with my hand, nibbling her lower lip and begging for entrance.

Her mouth parted, nearly crying out in desperation, her knee subconsciously rubbing up against my crotch, sending shivers running up and down my spine.

This wasn't right. She was my secretary. But we all hear about these stories, don't we? Why should it matter? If two people desire each other, then so they shall.

I was so wrapped up in justifying my actions that I didn't realize we were still in the hallway. Somehow my suit and tie ended up on the floor, exposing my near-bare chest underneath a thin white shirt. Her flower clip topped the pile of my clothes.

"We should go in," she purred, tugging my sleeve and taking me to the wooden desk without any resistance.

Seating her on the edge of the table, I cupped her chin in my hands, tilting her head up. Her eyes glistened not in fear now, but longing. The feeling was mutual.

Leaning down again, we kissed, rough sounds escaping our throats from time to time, her fingers digging deep into my back, most likely leaving scars. Our tongues danced, mouths swollen with bruises from the intense kisses. Licking and biting her throat, a high moan escaped her lips, a blush quickly following.

Finally, she panted, "I... Can't lean back!" Without a word, in fear a low groan would escape my own mouth or something worse, I laid her down on the carpeted floor, a more comfortable place. Her thighs parted, letting me lie comfortably on her body, chest pressed against mine. Rubbing my body against hers, a warm friction made me grow hard and her, wet. Now there was no holding back. Her legs were wrapped around my waist, now, begging for something more to happen. Within seconds, my final shirt had been torn off and her apron loosened.

"A-ah!" she whined.

Yes... That was the sound I wanted to hear...

"R-Roderich, the -ah!- door's open!"

_Shit._

**Camille's POV:**

"Oh." Well, this was unexpected. That jerk could actually seduce a girl. He was even half-naked, his bare, pale chest exposed. Surprisingly, it was thin, yet toned, quite unlike my stomach- but that's a whole different story. A pain was beginning to prick my temples, the edge of my vision blurring.

"Ah," was Eduard's quick reply, so soon that it nearly interrupted my sigh.

"Eduard, maybe we should go..." But my eyes were stuck on Roderich's utterly terrified violet orbs, wide and shocked, like a deer caught in the headlights.

Eduard blushed, looking away, then hurriedly walked down the hall, not even waiting for me.

"H-hey, wait!" I immediately ran after him, ignoring the long moan that escaped Roderich, as if he had been holding it the whole time I was standing at the doorway. Let them continue. Now I know his true self; a perverted man who has an obsession with maids and perfume. Balling my hands into fists, I caught up to him.

At first, I was unable to say anything, the shock too sudden to comprehend. Then came the shudders, the shivers, the silent cries. At that point, he led me to the hotel lobby, seating me on a bench and leaning my cheek onto his chest, patting my back. Finally, the loud, audible sobbing. Clutching his shirt, I cried into him, not even caring about the mess of my tears nor the mass of blonde hair stuffed into his face.

"Camille, do you like him?" he dared to asked, gaining a louder cry and fists pounding on his chest, knocking the breath out of him, nearly stopping his heart. "M-my mistake," he stammered, struggling to fill his lungs back with air.

After what seemed like an hour, my hiccups subsided shortly as I leaned on his shoulder, his warm hand caressing my side. My stomach twitched each time his fingers came in contact, so I told him to stop. He seemed a little disappointed, but stationed his hand on my hip, still and comforting.

"Thank you," I murmured, too tired to raise my voice. My throat hurt, as if someone pulled over my inner flesh with a metal rake, then left the metallic blood to stick, caking all over.

As if sensing my parched mutter, he gently placed my head against the orange stone wall, then retrieved a bottle of water. Feeding it to my open mouth, the cool liquid allowed me to finally thank him yet again, though I didn't want to this time. I felt so pathetic, crying over seeing some guy possibly about to have intercourse with a girl. What was wrong with me? I didn't even like him, I was sure of it. I positively detested him. Our bitter words, for some reason, made me feel delighted, as if I had a sense of purpose other than music. To strive to better myself in more ways than one. Our poisonous remarks joyed me.

Eduard proceeded to hum a lullaby, lulling me to sleep.

And indeed, it worked.

Within minutes, I was napping like a baby, despite my tear-stained face.

**{It's like a love triangle, starting now. Don't worry, plot-fanatics, there will be a purpose to this book other than romance, and it soon will be revealed, but not yet... Did you like this chapter? It's a little *actually a lot* dirtier than anything I'll probably write in any of my books, which ultimately means I don't get much practice, thus making the scene barely hitting a lime in the sense that it was poorly written. Even so, I wouldn't know. Copying and pasting this to my friends for a rate on the citrus scale would make things a whole lot more awkward... Oh, Eduard, even if you are not a master around girls, you have managed to comfort Camille, and that's all that matters!}**


End file.
